Saturday, April 25, 2009

Good Night, And Good Luck

Some of you who have followed this humble blog since its inception may have known that I was lucky enough to have survived a run-in with cancer a few years ago. Although I won that little battle back then, it appears I have lost the war. Cancer is a rather merciless predator, and despite the best efforts of a wonderful group of colleagues, it has returned. This time, I am told, it is terminal.

It has been a wonderful trip, filled with joyous memories, painful tears, and the brilliant heartache that comes from a life of boundless experience. I have lived only 35 years, but I have lived them well. And so I have no regrets, but that I couldn't longer and better know the girl I love - my miss giraffe.

To friends and foes in this odd little "blog world", I wish you nothing but success and good health. And I remind you that, despite whatever small differences we might have, we are all sailors on this same raft.

Good night, and good luck.

UPDATE: Thank you so much to all who have written such kind words in the comments and on their blogs. It reaffirms my faith in humanity that such generosity of spirit can be found amongst people who have never even met each other. Your thoughts and prayers have touched me deeply and are much appreciated. I would be remiss if I did not give a special thank you to my colleagues and to the hematology/oncology staff who have worked tirelessly on my behalf. Finally, please drop by the Canadian Cancer Society webpage and donate if you can. Research today is the cure of tomorrow. And, even more importantly, please consider adding your name to the Bone Marrow Donor Registry...it costs nothing, and you could quite literally give someone the gift of life.

RED CANUCK, I did not have the honour to read your blog in past but your current post drew my attention. I am sorry to hear about your health my friend. As you said we are all sailors on the same raft. My friend sometimes I find good ones leave too soon. My best wishes and prayer for you.

I remember watching a video of Dr. Barry Smith, when his health was declining, telling a group of medical students that we live on through the people whose lives we have touched. I never really understood the meaning of those words until now.

We've known each other since the beginning, and as far as I have seen, every life you have touched has been made better for the experience. Mine more than I can describe. I just wanted to say Thank You.

I’m just crushed to hear this news. I don’t know to say… I suppose screaming some profanity over and over again and then shaking my fist at the heavens above doesn’t do any good, but that’s the way I feel. This is soooo not right or fair.

I’m really going to miss you a lot, RC. You’ve been a good friend to me in this kooky online world. I’ve enjoyed your blog immensely for an always dependable laugh and occasional insight; and of course the thoughtful, witty and often hilarious comments you’ve made at my place over time.

I hope your remaining time is put to the absolute best use possible and that you can find ways to derive some enjoyment and fulfillment of whatever kind in the midst of what must be terrible experience. I’m not a religious person, as you know, but to heck with that, I’ll be praying for you anyway — both for your present state of being and whatever continuance might possibly exist in the hereafter. In any case, you’ll always be fondly remembered.

I'm truly sorry to hear about this, Red. Know that you have left your mark; and also that miracle remissions are not unknown. Hang in there are try to keep your spirits up. You have a lot of folks pulling for you.

On July 18, 1999 our family practitioner took a call from a CAT Scan technician. She and my wife had a 10-minute pow-wow, then they called me in. Dyane turns to me and says, "I have several weeks to live." My life has not been the same since.

Words are stupid, false empathy even more so. It is good to know that you are the one who knows he has lived a good life. No one can take that from you.

I am overwhelmed by your news RC. My thoughts are with you and your loved ones.

I have lurked on your site and appreciated your insights here and elsewhere in this blogging community. I admire the dignity with which you are handling such a tragic turn of events. I hope you can squeeze every last pleasure that life affords us in the days to come.

Too many good people leave this world far too soon. You will see from the comments here just how much you will be missed...and I am yet another who will have a heartfelt gap in my daily journeys through cyber-comment. Good night and good luck...GY

Now, I am not a bleeding heart (Liberal or otherwise), but your story, Red Canuck, is the very thing that can reduce me to a torrent of tears.

You’ll be in everyone’s thoughts and prayers.

All those who regularly take cheap shots at bloggers who happen to have a different view of the world or pursue a contrarian ideology should remember this: in the end, we’re all just human beings, as ephemeral as the day’s news we tend to get into arguments over.

Life, unfortunately, is a finite resource, and there's only so much anyone of us can do. I too believe in quality, rather than quantity, so if you've lived and enjoyed your 35 years on Earth, then it's already more than so many others achieve over a lifetime of 80 or 100 years.

I don't know if you're a believer or atheist, Red Canuck, but I'll say a prayer for you. I was brought up on Christian values, as a Roman Catholic, but while I maintain my Christian values, I haven't been a practising churchgoer in ages.

Without going into any details now, I have witnessed and experienced things in my life that have confirmed my belief that this existence here is just one phase before we move on to another. I doubt that it's anything like the various holy books of different religions describe it, but I'm sure that life doesn't end in the here and now.

I am so so so sorry to read about this. Oh RC, I know you have connections as a Doc and know all the ways to fight cancer, but you just know I am itching to consult Dr.Google on your behalf and try to save you hon.

And yet, I can't and no one can, and this is when I just don't know how to give up.

I want you to know that I will continue to bug the government about making a publicly funded bone marrow registry, and about ensuring that as many people as possible are signed up for it. I already was doing it, but for you, I promise I will redouble my efforts.

So if you are saying it's terminal, then it must be, so I'm going to pray that you have some good palliative care and some awesomely good fucking drugs as you go down.

And for your family and friends---please let them know that there are a lot of places online and in real life for grieving family members. My online support groups have saved me more times than I can count.

If you ever want to keep posting here before you go or if anyone wants to update it for you, I'll be reading, and thinking of you.

Have to admit, I’m not a regular reader of yours either, but what a generous, selfless post this is on your part. Like psa, this would be a time I’d pray, if I believed in prayer. I hope it turns around for you.

You don't have permission to say good night until you have said goodbye to family. I'm a zillion miles away in Oz but have been deeply troubled since I was told. I called home but it was 5am there and I didn't know what to say. I'm ashamed to say that I broke down. I haven't seen you in ages and I wish I could meet you and talk to you. I want to remember the good times when u visited - your humour,amazing sketches, especially the aeroplanes. My friend my brother you have fought valiantly and I sincerely hope the docs are wrong.I can't say much more than that I will always cherish all the times we spent together and that I will continue to pray for a miracle